


Handless

by ghostie_withthemostie



Series: Deadpool Drabbles [1]
Category: Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Mild Gore, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 14:14:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6661807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostie_withthemostie/pseuds/ghostie_withthemostie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous said: OMG wade has like his hands cut off, so the reader teases him and makes him super horny but he can't do shit cause he handless</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handless

**Author's Note:**

> i will write most anything

You were pretty desensitized to most levels of gore and violent injuries at this point. It just came with the territory when it came to Wade Wilson. So when he showed up at your front door (which he had knocked on by slamming his head against it repeatedly until you answered) hand-less and covered in blood, it was pretty easy to take it all in stride.

After the very brief shock and alarm that always comes when faced with his various injuries, you were able to step back and observe the humor of the situation. Wade sat naked on your couch (the shredded and blood-soaked remnants of his armor discarded), slurping contentedly from the beer (which you had helpfully provided a straw for) held in front of him. The stumps of his wrists sat useless against his thighs, no longer bleeding, and beginning to reform muscle and sinew at a rapid pace. 

Finishing his beverage, Wade belched and leaned back against the cushions, his eyes closed blissfully. “Thanks, babe. You’re one in million-trillion.”

You set the empty bottle on the coffee table, “That’s a lot.”

“It is, isn’t it?” 

You made an assenting sound, cocking your head and observing him. “Y’know…when I heard you knocking, I was kind of hoping you were here for something a little…different.” You let your voice drip with all the sensuous possibilities of this difference and Wade’s eyes popped open, turning toward you in alarm.

“Hey…none of that is off the menu…I mean, this is just a little setback, really…nothing…nothing we can’t work around.” He gestured with his stumps in emphasis.

With a shake of your head, you continued, “No…because I have to tell you: I had something very specific in mind. And it involved your hands. Specifically…your fingers. Can I show you?” You shift on the couch, lifting your hips to slide your shorts and underwear down your legs.

“i mean…if…if that’s. _yeah,”_ Wade breathed, eyes wide as you spread your legs, leaning back against the arm of the couch, facing him.

“I was thinking, maybe…the way you…” You slide your hand between your thighs, circling lightly over your clit, teasing yourself, your eyes locked on his gaze, which was locked on your hand and its movements. You rubbed lightly, soft strokes, before sliding your fingers lower, slipping back and forth in the moisture gathered at your entrance. Wade licked his lips. With a smirk, you slid one digit into your entrance, thrusting it in and out lazily, moaning dramatically, putting on a show. The merc was beside himself. His cock stirred and grew between his legs, the handless nubs of his arms fluttering uselessly as he watched. You dipped in a second finger, pressing upward against that exquisite spot inside of you, your thighs moving wider to give yourself more space to move. You brought your other hand down to join, stroking against your clit in time with the thrusts of your fingers, forgetting all about the teasing charade and losing yourself in the sensations. 

Wade was muttering encouragements, whining, leaning closer to watch your every move. Your eyes squeezed shut when the electric heat began travelling through your limbs as your found your release, his name on your lips met by a loud groan of frustration and arousal from the mercenary. You sighed, boneless and spent, lifting a damp, arousal coated hand to cup his face, which was watching yours, mouth agape and eyes glazed. 

“Well…there’s always next time.” You stood up, heading toward your bedroom.

“Wait! But what…what about…but I…” The merc looked back and forth between his swollen, hungry cock, you, and the still-healing stumps at the end of his arms. 

You shrugged, “Take care of it yourself.”

His groan echoed from the walls of your apartment and you smirked with your victory, climbing into bed.


End file.
